Restraint
by Dressed With Black
Summary: AU. One-shot. Nanao is a doctor, and Shunsui is her patient with a broken heart...


**Restraint**

* * *

Sitting at the nurses' station, surrounded by a pile of charts and paperwork, Dr. Nanao Ise paused to take a sip of cold, stale coffee. She barely grimaced anymore over the taste of hospital brew. She had long ago learned to bear it if she wanted the kick of caffeine.

The staff bustled about all around her, constant commotion and organized chaos. The sound of call bells, copy machines, phones ringing, and the squeak of nurses' shoes on tile sang the normal background music for this line of work. She was able to block all of that out, thankfully. Selective hearing was a skill she had developed to allow her to concentrate when on the floor.

She had an office of course. A nice one too. But it was rarely used. _This_ was where she needed to be, in the thick of her work, where she could keep an eye on critical patients and an ear for arising emergencies in between scheduled surgeries.

She was the assistant head cardio-thoracic surgeon, the youngest of the department supervisors. Half her colleagues praised her near-perfect work and tireless devotion to her job, while the other half sneered at her behind her back. She ignored both, naturally. She had little need or desire for friendships among coworkers.

"Dr. Ise," said a smooth voice. "I have a case I'd like your opinion on."

"Sure," Nanao smiled before turning to greet the newcomer, Unohana Retsu. Her boss and mentor, Retsu had retired from surgery a few years back due to arthritis in her hands. Nanao had taken over the knife since then, while Retsu worked with pre and post operation care now. They were a perfect team, bringing their hospital's cardio department into the spotlight of the community. "What have you got?"

Retsu took a seat by her, and Nanao pushed aside the chart she had been working on to give the other doctor her full attention. Whenever Dr. Unohana approached her like this, it usually took priority.

"This one is…complicated. For a number of reasons."

Nanao reached for the new chart and opened it to see what she was up against. Her eyebrows rose as she began reading, because this man _was_ problematic. He had been admitted last week after suffering his third heart attack. It had been a minor MI, but _still_. His third? Especially for a 36 year old. That was unusual to see. Their heart attack admits were typically much older.

"He's young for being on his third bout," Nanao murmured, flipping through the pages. Seeking out recent lab values and test results.

"Yes," Retsu agreed, offering a melancholy smile. "Young enough to recover beautifully from open heart surgery, I would imagine."

Although Dr. Unohana was still the head of department, she took little part in the actual surgeries, other than offering opinions. Nanao cast her a suspicious glance. There was usually a catch when she got involved. "He needs one?"

"Yes. But keep reading, dear, there is more to the case to consider first."

Nanao did, feeling a pang of sadness at the medical history that was unfolding on the pages.

She tallied up the important details and mulled them over:

Shunsui Kyoraku, age 36, born with a rare congenital heart defect. There was a tiny extra muscle deep in the heart causing irregular beats and general circulation disruption.

The patient had had several surgeries, but none had fixed the original problem.

Nanao frowned at that, wondering why the muscle hadn't been removed all together? Why not fix the problem instead of just the damage it caused?

Lifting the transparent screens of previous chest x-rays and MRIs to the light, she realized why.

The location of that damned little chunk of muscle was tricky, sitting much too close to the AV node, responsible for the electrical pulses that moved the heart tissue to pump.

Her brows knit as she studied the films, she understood how this would be a major problem. Previous surgeons hadn't wanted to touch it because it was in a delicate spot, and even the slightest misstep could end this man's life. It would be a touchy, touchy surgery if she took it on. She would need the steadiest of hands to pull this off.

Nanao frowned, taking a moment to pursue other lab work from the chart, and wanted to curse when she realized this man was on his last leg. His organs were suffering from the continuous trouble that irregular beat was causing. Had started into a shut-down process. The blood circulating his body wouldn't be as oxygen-rich as it needed to be. Add 36 years of that..? And a third heart attack?

Nanao let out a deep, unsure breath and turned to her mentor, who waited patiently as she worked through what she was up against.

"You feel that he is a surgical candidate, then?" Nanao clarified, glancing through previous doctor notes and nursing reports on the patient. He has been recovering here on their cardiac unit for a week, but still was a long way off from any major procedure.

"Not just any surgical candidate. _Your _surgical candidate. If you'll take it on."

"It says no one else has wanted to even attempt it," Nanao pointed out, but caught the hard glint in the other doctor's steel eyes.

"I believe if anyone could find a way, then you would be the one to do it. You have become my hands, Dr. Ise. And what steady and skilled hands they are. This man has no other options at this point in his life. He _needs_ this."

Leaning back in her chair, Nanao removed her glasses to clean the lenses on the hem of her white coat, loosing herself to her churning thoughts. Retsu had been a teacher to her during medical school, had taught Nanao everything she knew. Every trick of the trade and well honed procedure had been passed down to her by this woman.

Dr. Unohana rarely asked for things like this. How could she deny her?

"I'll review the chart, and assess him for _possible _surgery."

"I knew you would," Retsu smiled, laying a warm hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. Oh, and, Dr. Ise? Just think of the challenge a procedure like this poses."

She rose to leave, having imparted the perfect line to get Nanao captivated. Like always. Her mind started turning with the idea of a potential landmark surgery.

With a curious glance back to the desk, she smiled in resignation. Retsu was a sly manipulator. She knew Nanao well. The challenge is what appealed most to her.

Grabbing up the chart again, she flipped back to the history section, she read on.

The patient had suffered his first heart attack at the age of seventeen, his second at age twenty-five. His misshapen heart also threw off the occasional blood clot, as he had been admitted several times over the years with deep vein thrombosis. One instance of a pulmonary embolism, even. He had been placed on the organ transplant list before he had reached the age of thirty, but had since been removed due to his failing health. He no longer met the criteria.

He has been through many hospital doors, having met with cardio specialists all around the country since an early age. None had been able to fix this problem for him, only monitor and manage it.

And now this patient had landed in her lap. Well, Retsu had placed it there, anyways. The older woman clearly had faith that Nanao could do something more. A perfectionist with a brilliant mind, Nanao seldom balked at a case. But if so many others had been unable to find a way, would she be able to really do much?

Possibilities raced, plans were hatching. Her thinking process taken over by blueprints and ideas.

If she could pull it off, it would certainly boost her resume.

And (a more compassionate part of her whispered) as Dr. Unohana had pointed out, this man did need it. Life-long medications and surgeries were simply putting off the inevitable for this patient. From what she read, it was nearing the end of his options. She was surprised, given the medical history, that he had made it to this age, honestly.

Pushing her glasses up on her nose, she reached for her stethoscope and rose to her feet. Her first line of business was to meet this patient, assess him, talk over things, and make up her mind. She would make no sure decisions until she had all of the information, but she was usually certain either way after meeting the person in question face to face.

With a brisk step, she headed for his room.

* * *

Knocking quietly on the door, Nanao entered the single room at the end of the hall, biting off a greeting when she saw the man was asleep.

With a quick, critical eye, she measured him from a first-impression basis.

He was a large man, lean, wide shoulders and long body, an oxygen mask over his mouth, long brown hair fanned across the pillow. One arm was left uncovered, with an IV in the crook of his elbow and a pulse ox machine attached to a finger. His skin tone was an unhealthy grey, common among patients with failing hearts. She could feel the life in him, but it was always strange to witness another human being so far off their normal course.

She turned her gaze away, because it was always easier to pretend that these people were just patients, that it was just work, instead of a living, breathing person with their life draining away slowly.

She moved to the bedside, eyes glued to the monitors. The lights had been dimmed, the glow of the monitors casting a greenish shade, providing a continuous reading of the patient's heart. Her eyes were drawn to the EKG before anything else, scanning the figures, determining the stability and rhythm. Fragile, but not life threatening. She lifted the printout that had recorded the last hour of heart activity and analyzed it. The QRS waves were all wrong, there seemed to be no pattern to the mistakes, either. It was just a dangerous mess of beats.

She found herself again marveling at the fact that he had made it into adulthood.

The soft hiss of oxygen sounded, bringing her gaze back to the man laying beside her as he had pulled the mask away from his face. The pulse ox monitor beeped in warning as his levels dropped from the action.

"That needs to stay on, Mr. Kyoraku," she reprimanded, reaching to help him place it back where it needed to be. But he simply moved his arm from her, evading her hand. She frowned at him as he ran his tongue over his dry lips, eyes still closed as he composed himself with a few deep breaths. She took in the pale pallor of his face, knowing he needed to rest, not argue over the mask.

"Your oxygen intake is still too inadequate to remove that," she tried again, asserting a firmer tone behind her insistence.

"Yes, but one should always greet a lady," he joked, rubbing his other hand over his unshaven jaw. His eyelids cracked open slightly to see who he was talking to.

He froze, blinking to clear his vision more, focusing on the lovely woman hovering over him. He took in her face slowly. She wore no make-up or jewelry, but she was still a stunner. Smooth flawless skin and fine, pointed features, glossy hair pinned up and showing off the elegant line of her neck.

But her violet eyes were just mesmerizing. Sharp and unyielding. This one was a firecracker.

Realizing he was staring, he offered her a lopsided smile, and she tried not to notice how his whole face seemed to light up from the simple action.

"Hello."

"Hello to you, as well, Mr. Kyoraku," she said, glancing back to the monitors. They were balancing out, but too slowly. She frowned slightly. "I've come to talk with you about your care, but the mask needs to be replaced first. You'll get too winded without some flow of oxygen."

"What's your name?"

She cocked an eyebrow at how he brushed off her warning. "Nanao Ise-"

"-Nanao. What a beautiful name," he murmured. He cleared his throat, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. "It must be my lucky day. I couldn't have woken to a more delightful little nurse."

She felt her cheeks heat. Was he seriously flirting with her? Was he going to be one of _those_ male patients?

"I'm Doctor Nanao Ise, Mr. Kyoraku. I'm a cardio/thoracic surgeon reviewing your case for Dr. Unohana," she corrected, watching with interest as his expression turned to surprise. The field was dominated by men, even in this day and age, unfortunately. This was hardly the first patient to assume she was a nurse. "I'm going to be doing an assessment for the possibility of corrective surgery."

"Doctor Ise, I apologize for my mistake," he said, regarding her with more intent now. Attractive, _and_ smart. He was a goner. "You're just too pretty to fit the description. Most of the surgeons I've met have been balding, older men with bushy eyebrows."

Her lips curled just slightly at his comment, but she quickly covered it. Pulling the stethoscope from around her neck, she stepped closer. "Mr. Kyoraku, I need to listen to your heart."

"It's all yours, love," he grinned, pushing the covers down from his chest. He noticed that her cheeks pinkened. He couldn't help it now, she was even more lovely with that blush. With a saucy note to his voice, he added, "Do you need under my clothes?"

"I can hear just fine through your gown," she assured, a little too quickly. Who knew if this man would happily strip in front of her? He clearly had no boundaries. Although she had seen her fair share of nudity in her line of work, something about this man made it feel more intimate. She would need to assess scar tissue from previous surgeries, but she would build up to that.

She placed the bell over his sternum, closing her eyes to block out any distractions as she listened to the sound. Weak and irregular. She could hear the struggle in every contraction, causing her brows to knit in displeasure. His wide chest rose and fell under her hand with his breaths, as she drew up an image in her head of what it would all look like once she was inside and operating.

Determined now, Nanao felt that obsessive nature of hers stirring. It would be no easy task to do this surgery. But she knew just which books to go through when she got back to her office, and the phone calls to consult others in the field. She would gather every scrap of data she could and _make_ it fit together to form the steps she would take.

Shunsui watched her, transfixed. Dark sooty lashes closed as she took it all in. He could guess what she was hearing: a broken man's heartbeat fighting to work properly. It was his turn to feel the heat of embarrassment. For the first time he could remember, he felt humiliated by his health. This was the kind of woman a man could fall in love with, and she was witnessing him at his lowest. Go figure.

Her eyes opened again as she removed the earpieces. She met his gaze for a moment, lips thinned in thought. He could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. A genius was easy to spot when you witnessed one with a problem to solve. What was his little doctor coming up with?

"May I see your chest, now?" she asked finally, seeming to come to some silent decision.

"Ah, she does want under my clothes after all," he winked up at her, lifting a hand to remove whatever she needed.

"I can untie it from your neck," she suggested, and reaching to do so. "No need to compromise modesty, Mr. Kyoraku."

"I have very little to compromise," he assured.

Nanao gave him a look, one that seemed to amuse him greatly, as her fingertips brushed over his warm neck. Untying the hospital-issue gown from his shoulders, she helped to pull it down far enough for her purpose.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of his exposed chest. If his chart was the written history of his plight, the various surgical scars that littered his torso was the physical history. Out of the multitude of old, healed wounds that littered his upper body, his sternum had the worst of it. With thick, overlying scars running vertically from repeated openings. She imagined the pain of healing from so many surgeries, the months spent in physical therapy and cardiac rehab.

Unable to help it, Nanao laid a hand over his damaged skin. Crisp, dark hair brushed under her palm as she met his eyes. She saw resignation in his gaze.

"I'm damaged goods, eh, Doc?"

Frowning at his use of description, she looked back to his exposed torso. The EKG leads ran across his ribs, so she carefully traced over the scarring with probing fingertips. He held still for her as she examined the thick scars. When she had to cut and then close, it would be twice as sloppy as her usual work, thanks to the inept work of past doctors.

"I will have to open your chest again if I'm to operate," she explained, although it sounded like an apology even to her own ears.

"S'ok. That's an old hat."

Recovering from a rib-spreading was miserable, but he knew it was the only way to get to his ailing heart. Besides, her gentle touches and facial expressions spoke of an artist in her field. He was a good judge of character, and quickly assured of her capabilities. He saw her distaste for the methods of his previous operations.

When she was done, she took an extra moment to just _feel_ the man. Many doctors had superstitions. Good luck charms they wouldn't operate without, personal intuition they followed religiously, or traditions they observed with every patient. Some offered up prayers, some had a catch-phrase. Some even had silly little mottos or trinkets they kept in their pockets at all times.

Nanao was different. Putting together everything she knew of the patient, all the facts and information, opinions from staff members, her own medical knowledge, she would come to her professional conclusions. Then, with a touch, with a gaze into her patient's eyes, she would come to a deeper, more instinct-driven resolve about a person. One based on a hundred little things she picked up from them. She could determine the force of will, the want to survive. Were they hopeful? Depressed? Too tired to fight anymore? Calculating the odds from this, she often refused to operate if the mindset was too negative, even if the medical information added up favorably.

Because even if a surgery was flawless, she never underestimated how damaging a pessimist could be to their body.

From this man? Nanao got a sense of strength. Of a steady and solid drive within him, something bright and golden just under her fingertips. Not hopeful or even expectant that she could fix him. But not depressed or giving up, either. Just…accepting either way. She inhaled deeply, feeling his inner peace wash over her. He was a fighter, she knew then. He would pull through if she went for it.

Finished, Nanao pulled her hand away and helped to cover him back up, pulling the strings around his neck to retie the flimsy material. He gazed unabashed up at her when she leaned over him to reach, and she looked away quickly, trying to pretend the nearness wasn't anything other than it is with any other patient in her care. There was so much intensity coming off of him it was unnerving.

She stepped back a few paces, regarding him with a contemplative look. Silence settled over the room as she weighed her options, putting all the puzzle pieces together to form the whole picture of what she was dealing with.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he asked quietly, never taking his eyes off her.

She considered how to answer, tucking her hands into her pockets. An anxious gesture. This was a touchy situation. He was dying, plain and simple. Maybe not right now. He could have weeks or months, even a few years. But it would happen, and soon. If she didn't fix that extra muscle, that is. The other doctors he had seen had already deployed other options. Stints, valve replacements, medications. They have all failed this man.

"I'm thinking we need to do the surgery," she answered honestly.

"The last guy told me there was no more tricks to try. I don't want you to feel let-down when you realize that, too, Doc."

He was worried about letting _her_ down? She smirked at him. What a character.

"I don't do tricks, Mr. Kyoraku. I'm not talking about any temporary operations. What I want to do is remove the causative agent. The abnormal muscle tissue needs to come out."

If she had expected him to argue, or even show her disbelief, she was mistaken. He simply offered her a kind, if weak, smile.

"Whatever you want to do, just show me where to sign," he said, looking at her with an expression of trust. It surprised her.

"Don't you have any questions?" she wondered.

He shrugged, and Nanao was angry suddenly. He wasn't taking this nearly as seriously as he should.

"If you want to try it, by all means."

"Not 'try'. I want to do it. And pull you through the other side."

He studied her in the dim room, standing stiff and proud by his bed. Having just met this woman, he could hardly say he knew her. But there was such a unwavering glint in those expressive violet eyes. He could discern her passion for her work, the need to right what was wrong. She wasn't the type to make idle promises, he was sure.

She was getting more interesting by the second.

A nurse popped her head in the room then, "Dr. Ise, we need you in room 422."

"I'm on my way," she said, casting one last glance to her patient.

"I'll see you soon, then, Doc," he said, sad to see her leave so soon.

"Put the mask back on, Mr. Kyoraku."

He grinned, but did as she asked. Fumbling a moment, he finally got it back in place. She nodded in satisfaction and left without another word.

* * *

Shunsui was sitting up today. Albeit, with the help of the hospital bed's remote control buttons to get him to that point. Regardless, it was a nice change to be a little more upright. It took the pull of gravity off his chest a bit, easing some of his discomfort.

He could breath easier in this position, too. The nurse had switched him over to a nasal canula a little while ago on Dr. Unohana's orders. No more pesky mask, although he was still receiving a heavy dose of oxygen.

But man, he just wanted to get _up. _To walk around and stretch out his limbs. Sadly, he couldn't. He got short of breath too easily yet, and his balance was still a mess. He needed assistance just to walk from the bed to bathroom, and even that short trek took a horrible toll. He was exhausted all the time, and his recovering heart liked to shoot through with burning pain every time he subtly moved. Not to mention, he had so many things hooked up to his body that he wondered if anyone even noticed there was a man under all the tubes and wires.

Simply put: he was feeling restless. He hated this 'sitting around and waiting' routine. Being an acute care unit, the rooms were not outfitted for comfort, only life-saving. There was no TV, or even a window to stare out of. The walls and floor were a pale beige color, all the corners were full of machinery, and everything was just so…sterile looking. Dry. _Boring. _

Cabin fever. That was the term. He was going crazy spending so much time locked in here. Although, considering this wasn't his first stint in a medical building, he should be used to the environment by now. It's been a week now since his untimely heart attack had hit him. He was shopping, of all things, when it happened. Such a simple task for such a life changing event. Picking zucchini from a bin at the grocery when his chest had blazed into an inferno, spasms shooting across his shoulders.

Unfortunately, he knew immediately what was happening. It was his third time on this merry-go-round. At the time of the attack, he figured the third time was a charm, and he would most likely die in that store.

So when he had gone to his knees, he hadn't felt afraid. It was no surprise. It was always been expected that he would die from his heart problems. No, there was no fear, only guilt. Funny thing how the mind works. Because at the time, when he had finally collapsed to the floor and had heard alarmed shouting around him, he was worried about how traumatizing that would be for the couple of children that he had seen with their parents. They were too young to witness something like that.

He turned his thoughts away from that memory, and laid a hand over his chest in the quiet of his hospital room. He had felt cheated from an early age. But he had also made every effort to still _live _his life, even with the limitations he had set upon him. He had obtained goals, made dreams reality, had loved and lost, and had been generally happy. He wanted for nothing, other than a new heart, maybe. He was content with what he had and with what he had done with his life. He had never felt as if there would be unfinished business when his time was up.

The pretty face of Dr. Ise flitted through his thoughts, and his lips curled in an ironic smile.

He hadn't ever considered himself as marriage material. He had long ago come to terms with his situation. Knowing that his lifespan had a limited amount of days, he had always had fun but kept his distance from commitment with women. When they started wanting 'more' he ended it. Cruel, maybe, but it was also a kindness to them.

He hadn't ever tried for any serious relationships with the women he had known, because it plainly wasn't fair to them. How could he take a wife, and have children, only to leave them behind and grieving one day? No, that wouldn't be right. He would never want to be responsible for putting someone through…well, _this_. Hospital stays and tests and an early death on the horizon.

A man who couldn't rise from his bed without help.

He let out a wistful sigh, sinking further into his strange thoughts. He was a mess, obviously. That's why he kept women out of his circle. It's how it has always been for him, and that was okay.

But when he met the lovely doctor…?

There was an instant and magnetic pull. He had _wanted_. Gods, he had positively ached for things he had never thought of before. Things he had always brushed off as unattainable.

He hadn't seen her but that one time, a few days ago now. But he had thought of her frequently since then. There was some irresistible tie that had began between them that day. He wasn't imagining it, the calling was too strong to not be real. And yet, he really didn't know the woman at all. It was strange, but absolutely intriguing.

Oh, he had heard the nurses talk in their hushed whispers. He had heard quiet conversations of other patients, and of visitors and lab techs. He was a shameless eavesdropper when he was in the hospitals. Because really, what else did he have to occupy his time? But he had learned how his little surgeon was regarded among her peers. That she was thought to be the best at what she does. They called her exceptional, talented, and said she was climbing to the very top of her field. They called her a workaholic, putting in ridiculous amounts of overtime at the hospital. They said she was stern, but fair, with the staff under her, expecting the same perfection in them she did in herself.

Some were terribly intimidated by her. Those same people who admired her thought she was unfeeling, too formal, and cold. That had made him frown in annoyance. Because he didn't see that in the woman, and couldn't understand how they did.

No, what he saw was fire. One that raged just under her tight control. There was a consuming and driving side of her. It was right there, in her gaze, when she had looked at him that day.

That little woman was exceptional.

* * *

After conferring with Retsu, Nanao made her way to her patient's room, lost in thought. It had been about a week now since she had spoke to him. And the reports were looking good. He had been stabilizing more every day spent on the cardiac floor. According to the nurses, he had even been out of bed several times a day for short trips, gaining a little bit of mobility back that his recent heart attack had robbed him of. He was still getting short of breath easily, but that was normal at this point in his recovery.

A new regimen of medications, diets, and therapies would hopefully get him strong enough to withstand one last surgery. And Dr. Unohana was a master at what she did, there were few patients she couldn't straighten out. She would level him out a little more every day he spent under her expert care, Nanao knew.

And closer to the OR table.

At the door, she knocked, bringing his storm-cloud gray eyes to her instantly. He smiled when he saw who it was, happy to see her again.

"Doc, I was wondering when you would be back."

She noted he was sitting up in his bed today, still looking pale, but overall better. He must have just taken a shower, she could feel the humidity in the room, the lingering smell of soap in the air. His long hair hung damp and loose about his shoulders, but he seemingly forgone a shave. The oxygen was being delivered by a nasal canula now, the mask gone.

She leaned back on her heels, taking in the whole picture he made. She hadn't noticed before, but he was a handsome man.

"You're looking well today, Mr. Kyoraku."

"Shunsui, please. Anyone who is going to have their hands on my organs can call me by my first name."

She frowned faintly at that. She only ever addressed patients by their last names, so she wasn't about to change that practice now.

But then the double meaning of his words sank in, and she fought back a blush. Surely he didn't mean to make it sound so…sexual, did he?

Glancing at the monitors to avoid the request all together, she realized his rhythm was still irregular, although slightly improved. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now," he said honestly, soaking in the sight of her profile as she studied the numbers. "And how are you today?"

Nanao blinked, turning back to him. When was the last time someone had asked her that? She spent most days floating through the hospital asking how everyone was, but it was a rarity anyone wondered about her. She came to his bedside a offered him a polite smile as she reached for her stethoscope. "I'm fine, thank you."

He didn't miss the startled expression to his question. Was his little surgeon starving for attention? How sad. No one should ever go without such a basic need. "Have you been busy today?"

"Yes," she said after a moment, placing the stethoscope bell over his chest to listen.

"With what? Anything interesting?"

She gave him a look, one that clearly said she couldn't talk about such things. He grinned back.

"I'm bored out of my mind in here, Doc. Throw me a bone. No names, just tell me what you've done with your day."

She nodded in understanding, sure that she would feel the same if stuck in a small room all day. She pulled back and took the earpieces out to regard his curious expression. Not used to talking about her activities, she grudgingly narrated her shift. "I've been in surgery since late last night. In an emergency call-in for a traumatic car accident. It took several hours. When that was finished up, I did rounds on recovering patients, then went back into the OR for a malfunctioning pacemaker. I had a meeting on new policies, and now here I am."

He hummed, impressed. "You lead an eventful life, Doc."

"Sometimes," she agreed.

He took note of the dark circles under her eyes, and wondered if she bothered to take care of herself once in a while. "Have you slept, then?"

Caught off guard by the question, she stalled out on a response. He seemed genuinely interested. Pulling out a notepad from a pocket, she fished for a pen. "I've been on call. I usually nap here in between."

"That's not what I asked," he chided.

"No, it's not," she agreed, making a note on her notepad.

"Perhaps you need a break?"

"No."

"You could have a seat," he offered, gesturing to the chair in the corner. "Hide in here for a bit. I'll cover for you if anyone comes asking."

"That's very thoughtful," she sniffed, putting her notepad back in her pocket and meeting his gaze again. "But I have too much to do for a break, Mr. Kyoraku."

"Shunsui."

"Just because I'll be handling your _heart_, does not mean I would address you in anything other than a respectful manner."

"How do you know I'm a respectful sort?"

She didn't have an answer for that. With an unbelieving shake of her head, she decided to change the subject back to where it needed to be. "Dr. Unohana tells me you're responding well to the new medications-"

"-back to shop-talk already?"

"-and so I would like to say within the next two or three weeks I will be performing your surgery. As soon as I think you would be strong enough to handle it."

"You really are going to do it?" he asked, raising a challenging brow.

"I said as much."

"Yes. It's just that…so many others have refused."

"I would not attempt it if I thought I couldn't do it," she defended.

"I wasn't questioning your skill, Doc," he hastily assured. "I'm just trying to say…well, thank you. For _wanting_ to do it."

She took a breath, struck by the sincerity of his warm words. "You're welcome."

"You'll do a beautiful job."

She laid a hand over his large, chilled one. Squeezing lightly, she hoped she conveyed her own thanks at his confidence. His thumb brushed across her knuckles lightly before she pulled away, heading for the door.

"Keep up the recovery, Mr. Kyoraku. The stronger you are, the better your chances will be."

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he called, and Nanao was happy her back was already turned when she heard that. She was sure she had blushed more in the last few minutes than she had in years.

* * *

In her office, Nanao rubbed at a knot in the muscle of her neck. She closed her gritty-feeling eyes a moment, wincing at the pinch of discomfort in her tense shoulders.

She had been immersed in research for hours now. What time was it, even? A glance at the clock on the wall had her letting out a despairing groan. Gods, she had been up for a ridiculous amount of time.

"_Have you slept, then?" _

The question from her patient flitted though her thoughts, his deep smoky voice laced with concern. He didn't know how appropriate his concern was. Sleep was an elusive wish in her line of work.

Right now, her body was shutting down on her. It happened when she pushed herself too hard. Long hours at work, spent mostly on her feet, took their toll after a while. It wasn't just the hours spent on the floor or in the OR, it was the time she put in talking with the families, collecting information from the nurses, making phone calls and attending meetings. It was in her time spent researching, in asking questions, in covering all the bases. It was in her inability to rest until she knew everything was in order enough for her to be absent. There was always someone in critical condition who needed her attention, always a worried husband or wife who needed her words of assurance, always reports to write and lab work to go over. Always something to be done.

But this Mr. Kyoraku's case was taking up her time, now.

Surrounded by books and notes, she now had a plan of action for his surgery. It had taken her the better part of the night, her eyes strained from reading and her hand cramped from note-taking, but she knew this would be worth it when she pulled it off.

It always was.

Standing, she stretched her tired limbs and tucked all of her paperwork into her leather satchel. It was almost too full to clasp shut. With one last glance around the office to make sure she had everything, made her way to the door. She really needed to head home for once. It's been a few days, the mail would be piling up.

She wasn't scheduled to work tomarrow, and she somehow resented it. Nanao felt like a stranger in her own skin when she was off of hospital grounds. She had nothing else. Her parents were gone, she had no children, not even a pet fish awaited her at her sterile home across town. It was too quiet there, absent of the sounds of life and death that the hospital offered.

The silence killed her some days.

Every year, she found herself wanting to leave work less and less. Because here, she was needed. She was important, and she made a difference. What was she in her personal life? A woman who lives alone, she had no real friends to spend time with, no family wanting to see her. Hell she didn't even know what her neighbors looked like.

It didn't bother her, not really. Not most days. Sometimes she would sit and wonder if she had taken a wrong turn at some point? If she had distanced herself too much from the real world? She knew one day she might look back and realize she had had a brilliant career, but nothing else to show for her time on Earth.

Was it enough?

Nanao blinked, realizing she had ended up back on the Cardiac Critical Care Unit, unsure why her feet had taken her here. Hadn't she been heading home?

With a sigh, she knew the answer: one last check before she left.

The two night nurses cast her a knowing glance, quite used to her popping in at ungodly hours. She nodded her greeting to them and started her rounds.

Quietly so as to not wake anyone, she walked into each room. Checking the monitors and gazing at the sleeping patients as she went. Reading over the printouts from the machinery. In and out, just to set her mind at ease before she left. Assuring herself that these people under her care would be here when she returned, that they were stable and didn't need anything right now.

By the time she reached the last room, she felt her exhaustion seeping in. Driving home would be trying, probably. How many times had she arrived at her house wondering how she had even managed to steer the car there?

Stepping into Mr. Kyoraku's room, she went about the same check-over, her motions on autopilot.

Monitors, numbers, printouts…

"You're still here?"

His voice made her jump in the shadowy room. The other patients she had checked on had been out, and she was simply too tired to have noticed he was awake when she had come in.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," she said, meeting his alert gaze. He didn't look as if he had just been woken.

"You're not," he assured. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he took a few deep breathes to wait out the pain from the action. He reached over to click on a lamp, casting more light in the small room. "I wasn't asleep."

"You should really be resting, it is late."

"I was thinking the same for you," he grinned. "Didn't we talk about this the other day?"

"I was just checking things before I left," she explained.

"Do you always wait until three in the morning before you head home?"

Removing her glasses to clean the lenses, she nodded absently. "Often enough. I don't finish up until late, usually."

"Perhaps you work too hard, Doc."

Placing the glasses back on her nose, she smiled faintly at him. "Is there anything you need before I leave? You'll be in good hands with Doctor Unohana for tomarrow, but if you need anything for pain-"

"-You're very good at not answering questions," he interrupted.

Gods, she was just too exhausted for this right now. "I probably do work too much, Mr. Kyoraku. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No," he said honestly. "I'd love to hear that you were well rested and happy, not looking so limp on your feet. How can you take care of others if you aren't taking care of yourself?"

She bristled at that, her jaw tightening. Her tiredness evaporated in a rush of indignation. "I assure you that I am capable of handling patient care, lack of sleep or not, Mr. Kyoraku."

"Ah, I've offended you. I'm sorry, that didn't quite come out the way I had meant," he drawled. "I don't doubt that you know your own limits. I'm just saying that I hate to see such a lovely woman with the weight of the world bearing down on her."

She met his gaze steadily, her irritation dissipating at his explanation. No, he probably didn't mean it the way it had sounded. "I've spent the last handful of hours going over your case, actually."

"Are you saying that _I'm_ the cause of you having not left the hospital yet?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Tonight, anyways."

"Am I a troublesome patient?"

"Yes. Although not in character. It's just your case."

"That still makes me feel bad," he pouted. "I don't want to cause you headaches."

"You aren't the first, or last, who will keep me up, Mr. Kyoraku."

"I wish I could have kept you up with something more interesting than paperwork," he said suggestively, wagging his eyebrows.

Her lips curled at his outrageous statement. "Paperwork was plenty interesting, I assure you. I've actually come to several conclusions."

"Oh? What did you conclude, then?" he asked, and she couldn't help but notice he still had a hint of insinuation in his voice.

"I've worked out the particulars of how I will do your procedure."

"Are you saying _that _was more interesting than other things you could have been doing with our time together?"

"Aren't you interested in what I'll be doing in surgery?" she questioned, brushing off his innuendo. He hadn't reacted at all to her statement. His life would be on the line, but he didn't seem eager to hear about the particulars. He hasn't since he arrived, really.

"It's probably better to leave all that to you," he waved off, smiling at her. "I've dealt with this for a long time, but I still can't really follow all the medical talk. If you think it will work, that's all I really need to know. I trust your judgment."

"So easily?"

He grinned, reaching for something at his bedside. When he brought it to his lap, she saw he had a folded newspaper. "Did you know the newspaper did an article on you, Doc?"

When he held it up, Nanao found herself looking at a black and white of her accepting a plaque. Vaguely remembering that ceremony, she thought it was when she had received the achievement award for 100% successful outcomes for her coronary artery bypass graphing.

"I hadn't read that, yet, no."

"Is this your first newspaper write up?" Shunsui asked, then smiled at her silence. Turning the paper back to skim over it, he murmured, "I thought not."

"What does the article have to do with your surgery?" she wondered, baffled. "That was a whole different procedure-"

"-It says here, in a statement, that the CEO of this hospital called you his 'rising star' of the surgical team," he whistled. "You must be something special, Doc."

Nanao felt only sadness at the praise, as her earlier dark musings came back to mind. A brilliant career with nothing else to show. That was her legacy. Her lot in life.

She stuck her hands into her pockets, feeling very alone all of the sudden. She needed to go, probably. Sleep would make her mind unclouded and she would just feel better all around, she was sure.

When she had said nothing, it brought his intent eyes back to her. Taking in her expression, Shunsui tossed the paper on the bed and laced his hands together thoughtfully. He had meant to compliment her, but for whatever reason he had only brought some kind of hurt.

Strange, intriguing woman.

He decided to give his real answer to her question. Because really, it was always best to be straight-forward. "Do you want to know why I trust your word, Doc? It's not because of your accomplishments and newspaper write-ups."

She nodded slightly for him to continue.

"Because I look in your eyes, and I see a force of nature inside you that's just ready to be released," he said without preamble. "I see a woman who will accept no less than perfection, who will perform impeccably and with a grace that anyone could be envious of. But more than that, I see something beautiful in you, sweetheart."

Her lips had parted, violet eyes widened. He smiled, pleased to have knocked her off balance, to make her _feel_ what he was saying.

"And so, when you told me you can fix it, I believed you. When you said you had figured it all out, I didn't need the details. Because as far as I'm concerned, you've already given me back my life. I don't think even Death himself would dare get in between you and something you wanted badly enough. And so, I trust you. I wouldn't think to question the instinct that tells me to do so."

Nanao swallowed thickly, her chest aching with something unnamable. Her hands had fisted in her pockets, as some tingling energy raced through her at his words.

"Nothing to say to all that?" he asked, raising his brows. "Have I embarrassed you?"

"No, not embarrassed, just…" she cast about, shaking her head at how direct he was. "I don't know what to say."

He grinned as she flushed. She hadn't meant to admit to that, probably. But he was pleased to have moved her. Honesty was the right route to take with this one. "Then don't say anything. Go home, and get your rest now."

She nodded, unable to do much else. Never had she been so stunned, or flattered, from a patient's opinion of her. "Goodnight, Mr. Kyoraku."

"Goodnight," he replied, that wonderful deep voice of his caressing the salutation in a way that made it feel like an embrace.

Nanao left on wobbly legs, her mind miles away.

* * *

Sitting in her customary spot behind the nurse's station a few days later, Nanao tried (and failed) to keep her eyes on the chart she was working on. But they just kept straying to the pair down the hall.

It was nothing new for the Physical Therapist to walk patients in the hallways. In fact, that was a constant throughout the dayshift. It was easier to have them up for walks close to the nurses, in the event of an emergency, than it was to cart them off to their therapy rooms several floors below.

Nanao watched the man who was making his way down the hallway slowly. One Shunsui Kyoraku.

She had read the reports, naturally. He had been improving everyday. This wasn't the first time he had taken a walk since his attack. But it was the first time she had had the chance to witness it. So she did, keeping her eyes locked on him for the past several minutes now.

She couldn't help it, though, because she wanted to see how he was coming along. For professional reasons, of course. She had a vested interest in his recovery. The sooner he was recovered, the sooner she could tuck that complicated surgery under her belt.

It had been several days since her last visit to that man's room, but for some reason she couldn't quite wipe him from her thoughts. She had an obsessive personality, so it wasn't any surprise that she was fixating on him and his upcoming operation. She wanted it to be flawless. She would think it through over and over again until the day came. She would be prepared, ready for anything, and it would work out.

This was typical of her, she knew. To let these thoughts consume her. She had done the same in the past with other difficult cases. Eyes on the prize, and all that.

Although…if she were honest, this one was _slightly_ different from previous patients under her care. She just couldn't seem to pan out how, exactly, he was so different. It just didn't make sense to her analyzing brain. She wasn't thinking about the upcoming operation solely. It was more than his health. It was just…well, him.

_He_ was what she thought about.

The way he looked at her, the way he spoke. He had a truly poetic way with words. A mannerism that spoke of a gentle and tender person.

Watching him, she realized he was even taller than she had originally thought, now that she saw him on his feet. He towered over the physical therapist at his side, who was also a fairly tall man. She took in his movements, pleased to see that he was in fact making progress. He walked with a measured, but balanced, gait. One hand on the rail that ran down the hallway as he chatted with the therapist, an aide trailing behind with a mobile oxygen tank.

She also couldn't help but notice that his robe was bright pink and covered with flowers. Honestly. How could any man consider something that ridiculous for a cover-up option?

He looked up then, as if summoned by her thoughts, and caught her openly watching him. He grinned as she hurriedly looked away.

Nanao reminded herself that she was a professional. Being embarrassed over his catching her staring was asinine, especially for her. She was his doctor, so of course she would be looking at him. But she still managed to feel like a school girl getting caught staring.

Besides, she had things to do. Things she had been sitting here neglecting as she had kept her focus elsewhere. She grabbed her pen and worked through the pile of discharge sheets, studiously avoiding looking up again until he was gone.

* * *

"Dr. Ise," the floor nurse, Isane, whispered heatedly, rushing up to the nurses station. Nanao noticed the panicked look in her eyes, instantly alarming her.

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"You need to go," she insisted, grabbing up paperwork from the desk to help usher her on.

"Go?"

"Hide, I mean. Hurry!"

"What?" Nanao was thoroughly confused now as she rose to her feet, collecting her things. "What's going on?"

"It's Dr. Kurotsuchi again. He's on his way here, looking for you. And he's in a mood. Something about a surgery you denied him? He's seriously on a war path. Nemu, from Plastics, called down to warn us just now."

"Oh," Nanao cringed, rushing to grab up all of her things, piling them in a sloppy heap. God, she knew her decision on that matter was going to come back to bite her on the ass one day. Dr. Kurotsuchi was a madman, but also their resident plastic surgeon. Retsu and her both had appealed to the board to hold off one of his scheduled surgeries due to cardiac issues with the patient he was wanting to cut on. It wasn't the first time she had ruined his plans, and it probably wouldn't be the last. However, the man was known all over the hospital for his explosive temper and legendary tantrums.

Nanao didn't 'hide' from many things. But he was certainly one of them. Especially after the last confrontation she had had with him. She had filed a complaint after that fiasco, but unfortunately he was a relation to the CEO, and basically untouchable.

"Call Dr. Unohana and give her the heads up, too, please," Nanao said, stepping quickly around the counter.

"I already did. Go," Isane insisted, shooing her away.

A quick debate on where she should go stalled her. If she went to her office, he would certainly find her there. Worse, there would be no witnesses. The same could be said for the doctor's lounge and locker rooms. And the lunatic had thrown a paperweight at her last time. Of course, there have been nurses that he had thrown scalpels at, so dodging a paperweight was rather minor, she figured.

Trying not to think too much about her sudden decision, Nanao made a beeline for the room at the end of the hall. Dr. Kurotsuchi wouldn't make a scene in a patient's room. Wait, would he?

She heard the elevators ding, and knew there was no time to wonder.

She knocked lightly on the door, peering inside at Mr. Kyoraku sitting up in his bed, dressed in a simple cotton t-shirt and sweat pants today. He glanced up from a notebook in his lap, pen frozen over the paper. He grinned when he saw it was his little surgeon.

"Hello again."

"Mr. Kyoraku. Ah, would you mind if I closed the door?" she asked, feeling like a kid running from an angry parent suddenly. How humiliating.

"No," he said, a brow quirking in interest. He took in the stack of papers she clasped to her chest, some of which were sticking out at odd angles. She didn't strike him as the unorganized type at all. "You look a little flustered."

"I am," she admitted through her pride, pushing the door shut behind her and moving into the room. Her eyes automatically ran over the monitors by habit before she looked back to her patient. "You told me I could hide here if I needed to."

"I did," he nodded, lips quirking. "Is that what you're doing?"

"Yes…" God, how embarrassing.

"By all means," he waved over at the single visitor's chair in the corner. "Or I could scoot over-"

"-the chair would be fine," she deadpanned and he laughed.

"So, who are we hiding you from?" he asked, tucking his notebook away in the little side table.

"No one you want to know," she assured, sinking into the chair gratefully. She started flipping through her papers, trying to fit them into some semblance of order. They were important things that needed her signature, too. She frowned sourly at the mess.

"Hm. A man?"

"Yes," she said absently, tapping the edges of her stack to even them out. "One of the other doctors here."

"Is this a persistent ex?"

"What? No, nothing like that."

"Why is he looking for you?" He felt an uneasy stirring in himself. Was she in some kind of danger from this mystery pursuer? She didn't seem the type who would back down from anyone. But she had clearly wanted to avoid the hell out of whoever it was.

"Difference of opinions," she explained. Settling back into the chair, she let out a sigh of relief, figuring she had probably just dodged a bullet. Or at the very least put it off a little while. The madman would catch up to her or Retsu eventually. He tended to aim for her, though. Retsu was impossible to intimidate. Which was just all around miserable luck for her, really. If she never laid eyes on the man again she would die happy.

"Is he wanting to pick a fight, then?"

"Always," she muttered. With a drained expression, she regarded her patient. My, he looked alert today. And his color was improving, if a little pale yet. He still hadn't shaved, she noted. His unkempt jaw line gave him a rugged and comfortable appearance. He was watching her with those piercing eyes. She should probably steer this conversation elsewhere. How amateur was it of her to even be discussing this with a patient, anyhow?

"Pardon my childishness, I don't usually act this way. That man is a special case, I assure you."

"Act however you want, sweetheart," he shrugged.

"I did want to see you today, however. To check up with your progress. You're feeling well?"

"Yes, Doc, I'm just great," he grumbled, uninterested in discussing health-related things with her. He wanted to get to know her. Even more, he wanted her to see him as a man, not just a patient. "What made you come here?"

"What?"

"Just now, what made you pick my room?"

"To hide in, you mean?" she asked, with a disgusted sniff at her own actions. "I needed somewhere he wouldn't think to look. And besides, you offered that service once."

"I did, indeed," he grinned. "I'll happily keep you to myself for as long as you'll allow it."

"Not long. If I'm interrupting-"

"-what could you possibly be interrupting? This is the most excitement I've had all day."

She smiled, just a tiny bit. Enough to make his stomach tighten.

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you came. Since you're indebted to my generosity, it's your job to entertain me now."

"Is it really?"

"Obviously."

"How do you figure?" she asked, wondering why she felt so lightened around this man. Something about him made it impossible to stay impersonal.

"Well, I'm charging rent for the hiding spot."

"Rent?"

"Yes. You have to pay it in answers to my questions."

"What sort of answers?" she narrowed her eyes. What game was he playing?

He pursed his lips, thinking on it. "Tell me something about yourself that I don't know. About _you_."

"I'm allergic to tomatoes," she said wryly.

He laughed. "That's a start. A boring one, maybe, but still a start."

"You didn't specify."

"No, fair enough. Tell me something about your life outside of the hospital?"

"There's not much to tell," she confessed, feeling silly. This was the type of man who lived a warm life, she was sure. Filled with friendship and mirth. She had nothing to share that would sound appealing to him, probably. She didn't even have a potted plant in her home.

"Single?"

"Yes," she hedged, giving him a warning look. "Although that's a bit too personal."

"A hobby, then?" he suggested, unfazed.

"I read."

For some reason, that confession made him light up, she noticed.

"Oh? What do you enjoy?"

"Everything."

"That doesn't narrow it down much," he chuckled.

"I read all sorts of genres. I couldn't pick a favorite."

He smiled broadly, pleased. She caught herself trying to imagine what he was thinking. It looked as if she had just given him ideas, odd as that was.

"Have you collected enough rent?" she smirked, glancing back down to her paperwork and scratching her signature on a page. If she was stuck here, she may as well finish up her work.

"Hm. Not quite. A few more. Tell me, where is home?" he asked after a stretch.

She found his wording unusual. But then she realized what he was asking her, and it felt like a loaded question. This wasn't her home town, but then even the place she grew up felt more like a far off memory than anything cozy. Her college life had been all about studies and left no room for friendships. Even the hospital couldn't be considered, as there was nothing personal here for her, either.

Where was home?

She had no idea. She had nowhere that offered her such a feeling. She wasn't sure she would even recognize anything or anyplace as special to her.

Feeling embarrassed by that little revelation, she purposely misunderstood his meaning. "I live here in the city."

"Not what I was asking-"

There was a disturbance in the hallway then, muffled by the door. She could hear shouting, and something crashed. Dr. Kurotsuchi had clearly arrived.

Cringing, she felt a pang of remorse for leaving the nurses to that fate.

Nanao's lips thinned. She needed to deal with this. She had assumed he wouldn't act up so bad on the floor, with patients and visitors moving about. But she had clearly underestimated his insanity. And he shouldn't be taking out their issues on her staff.

"If you could excuse me, Mr. Kyoraku," she rose to face the music, but a large, calloused hand caught her wrist when she walked by the bed.

Surprised, she met the stormy gaze of her patient.

"You are _not_ going out there," he told her, his voice ringing with a commanding tone she would have never expected out of the gentle-natured man.

"I have to," she told him patiently, tugging on her arm. He released it immediately. But started a struggle to push himself up, swinging his legs around to the edge of the bed before she could stop him. With his socked feet on the ground now, he winced slightly from the movement. When he started pulling the oxygen tube from his nose, she realized he intended to be some sort of hero.

She put a hard hand to his shoulder, pushing down on him before he could rise. "Stop."

He did, sitting still for her and meeting her gaze. In this position, their eyes were level where she stood in front of him.

"Only if you stay."

She pulled her hand back, startled. "What are you doing?"

"I intend to go with you if you step out the door."

"You can't, you're still weak, Mr. Kyoraku. You need to wait for the physical therapist before getting out of bed. And I can handle-"

"-I'm not as strong as I should be," he agreed, and a muscle ticked in his jaw from the admission. She realized she had taken a chunk of his pride with her wording. "But I'll be damned if I let you go deal with _that _alone. I can hear the rage in his voice out there, and I can't sit by when it's going to be directed at you."

"Me?"

"Any woman," he amended, not wanting to sound as possessive as he felt.

"The nurses dealing with him right now are all women," she pointed out.

"They aren't getting what you probably would, am I right? You're the one he was looking for."

"They don't deserve to-"

"-I don't care, they aren't the focus of his anger. You are."

"Do you hear yourself right now?" she asked, shaking her head at his actions. She couldn't remember ever having such a frustrating patient in her whole career.

"Yes."

"And you think I need protection?' she clarified.

"From the sounds of the commotion out there?" he said, and another booming shout rang out as if on queue. His own violent side was rising from the threat it possessed, causing his chest to ache in warning. He laid a steadying hand over his sternum and took a deep breath. "I think you need to let it go, and just wait here with me. Alright?"

A beat of silence fell between them, in which Nanao stewed. This overbearing man, who met her hard gaze with his promising one, wasn't backing down from her. He meant what he said. If she left, he fully intended to follow her, consequences be damned.

With a huff, she took the oxygen from his hands and reached up, tucking it back around his ears, straightening it down his neck.

She glanced over at the monitor screens, noticing his heart rate and BP had gone up, almost to a dangerous point.

"You need to lay back and relax. You're getting yourself all worked up for nothing," she informed him.

"I'm fine like this, thanks," he countered.

"I'll stay. Alright? Just lay back. Please?" she cast a worried look back to the screens, her brows drawn in concern.

He considered her. After a moment of deciding to believe her at her word, he finally leaned back, gingerly pulling his legs back up onto the bed again. Shifting to stretch out, he kept his gaze on the doctor at his side. The one shooting him such a disproving glare he was sure it could melt glaciers, given the chance.

When he was settled, she grabbed her stethoscope with a jerky, obviously irate, gesture. Placed it over his chest, he stayed silent as she listened intently to his heartbeat slowly climb back down.

She pulled the earpieces free, her mouth still set in that displeased way. He tried to smile for her, hoping to bring her back around, but it felt forced even to him.

But, on the bright side, the hallway outside sounded quiet again. That asshole had apparently moved on.

"Don't be upset," he said softly.

"You need to avoid situations that are going to place unneeded stress on your recovering heart, Mr. Kyoraku. Such as throwing a fit over things that don't concern you."

Ouch.

"I'm impulsive," he offered sheepishly.

"Clearly."

He took a deep breath, damning himself with his next words. "I'm not sorry, though."

She shot him one last angry look, before gathering up her papers and leaving without another word.

Stubborn, irritating man.

Despite everything, he smiled to himself in the quiet of his room.

* * *

Nanao had the phone to her ear, dictating for the medical transcriber about her two surgeries this morning. She talked while the woman on the other line typed. The steady tap, tap, tap coming over the background.

She watched the staff moving about as she rattled on. She hated dictations, even though it was necessary for the chart. Her bored gaze drifted over the hallway from her spot behind the nurse's station, catching sight of the one man on the unit she would have loved to avoid today.

She blushed, against her will. Had she really used his room for a hiding spot yesterday? She couldn't even explain that decision to her own self. And the odd moment that had passed between them, charging the air of his tiny room, still coursed through her. She didn't know what to make of the way she felt around the man. She had no basis to go by, no experience with such a demanding pull of another person. It made no sense to her analyzing brain. He was her patient. She was his doctor. Simple as that.

So why did it feel like so much more?

The long process of recounting her procedures continued, step by step, and seemed to take forever. Time consuming task.

On the positive, it allowed her to ignore the fact that Mr. Kyoraku and his assigned physical therapist seemed to be headed in her direction. He was apparently out for a walk at the same time that she was trapped in conversation with the transcriber. She couldn't run away or act like she had something else to go do. She would have to stay on the phone until the dictation was over.

She really had terrible timing.

Nanao wasn't at all shocked when he stopped on the other side of the counter from where she sat. Without interrupting her stream of words, she glanced up and gave him a look. One that said she was busy and couldn't talk.

He grinned back, undaunted, and she distantly heard him telling the therapist he was tiring. Could he stand here a moment to rest?

The other man easily agreed, and walked off to fetch his wheelchair in case he needed it.

Nanao tried not to notice when he crossed his arms over the counter and kept his full attention on her. She fiddled with her pen as he hovered, kept her chin down and her eyes on her hands as she talked quietly. She wondered if he was always so intense or if he was just that way with her as she tried like hell to disregard the way she _couldn't_ ignore him there.

Caving in after several moments, she glanced up and met those storm-colored eyes with the tiniest of smiles.

He lit up at her attention, mouthing a 'Hello'.

Motioning to the phone to let him know to be quiet, he nodded in understanding. She went on recounting the closing of her patient from this morning, carefully explaining her every move as her eyes roamed over his face. His long hair was tied back today, and he still hadn't shaved.

But somehow the messy look suited him.

He reached down and claimed a blank sheet of paper from beside her. Out of her range of sight, he turned his focus to the paper in his hands, doing something with it.

Curious, she tried to peek, but he only chuckled and moved it lower behind the counter.

She glowered, and went about ignoring whatever he was doing. Into the phone, she explained the medications prescribed for post-surgery, the recovery room report, and the vital signs obtained.

She noticed the therapist returning for her patient out of the corner of her eye, just as he dropped a perfect little origami crane onto the desk space in front of her.

Nanao's steady stream of words faltered as she glanced up quickly.

He winked, telling the therapist he was rested enough, and they moved away down the hallway together again.

Lips parted in surprise, Nanao took in the little bird, where it sat perched on her paperwork. Something in her chest loosened and warmed at the sight of it.

"Dr. Ise?" the voice over the line prompted.

"Ah, right. Sorry about that. I was saying…"

As she launched off into her dictation again, she traced a finger carefully down the folded creation.

* * *

Having just walked out of the OR, Nanao made her way back to the unit. Surgical cap still tied around her head, she was lost in thought. The day after tomarrow was the big day. It had been looming in her future for weeks now, but she had finally scheduled it.

He was recovered enough from the heart attack. He was as stabilized as he needed to be. It was time.

In just a handful of hours, she would be going in the OR with Mr. Kyoraku. And she would fix that irregular muscle in his heart. It would go perfectly well and she would get many pats on the back for a job well done. She would breeze through the procedure with a steady hand and keen eye, and nothing would go wrong or sabotage that seamless outcome she demanded.

Nanao took a deep, pained breath. She's been telling herself that all day, anyways. She was a big fan of positive thinking. Although she had spent an equal amount of time envisioning everything that could possibly go wrong, and how she would mend it if it did.

Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. That was her motto.

She stopped at the nurse's station and signed a few orders for the women, took a phone call from another floor, answered questions for the x-ray team that stopped her before she went into a room, made some notes in her pocket book. Then moved through the patient rooms, checking in with the recovering post-surgical folks under her care.

At the last room, and with a stiff set to her shoulders, she prepared herself to tell Mr. Kyoraku the news.

She knocked softly, then entered. Only to blink in surprise at the tall woman standing next to her patient's bed. The dark-haired woman turned, with sharp eyes behind glasses and an obvious chip on her shoulder, and appraised Nanao head to toe.

Nanao didn't know what to think, having never seen any visitor's in his room up until now. Sister, maybe? Or, hell, was this his wife? She had never even thought to ask about his family.

"Doc! There you are!" Mr. Kyoraku called out cheerfully, waving from his spot in the bed.

"Yes, I needed to speak with you about a few things." She smiled politely at the older woman in her path, offering her hand. "Hello, I'm Dr. Ise-"

"-I know who you are," she snorted, ignoring the hand and moving to the side table to collect a clipboard. "Shunsui's told me all about you. You're the one who is planning to kill him."

Nanao's eyes widened. What?

"Lisa…" the man in question cautioned, shooting his visitor a look that quelled the woman's temper. "Doc, forgive her. She's…grumpy. Come in, please?"

Nanao cleared her throat and composed herself from that little remark. She stepped in and came to his side. "Mr. Kyoraku, I've scheduled your surgery. Tuesday morning at 9am."

"Alright," he nodded, unconcerned.

She frowned, wishing he could take this more seriously, even just once.

"Nothing to eat or drink after midnight the night before, and the surgical team will start prep work at 7:30. The anesthesiologist will be along tomarrow to have you sign papers and explain the medication he will be using-"

"-I can't believe it," Lisa interrupted, crossing her arms across her generous chest. It caused her skin-tight shirt to ride higher up on her midriff. Nanao tried not to notice. "You're seriously going to go through with this? Look how young she is, you idiot. She's practically a kid! She can't be more than a few years out of school and you're letting her cut you open and do what every other doctor has told you can't be done? Really?"

"Lisa, that's enough. Go home," he said, in a tone that brooked no arguments.

With an unbelieving look, she demanded, "You're throwing me out? I flew in for this, ya know. I just got here-"

"-just leave," he commanded. His voice was quiet, but it held an undercurrent of anger.

Nanao tried to seem engrossed in the monitor screens to avoid the awkwardness of witnessing their little disagreement. It wasn't the first time she had been caught up with a patient arguing with family. She knew to just stay out of it.

"Fine. Just don't die. I'll see you when you're not being an ass." Lisa growled and spun on her heels, slamming the door on her way out.

"I'm very sorry about her."

"It's an emotional time," Nanao waved off, meeting his gaze. He looked upset, she thought. "How are you? Are you nervous?"

"Not at all, I was just worried she had insulted you. Her words were rather careless."

"Don't concern yourself with that, Mr. Kyoraku."

"But you _are_ my concern, Doc."

Her lips curled slightly. The man really was a shameless flirt. "Technically, _you_ are _my_ concern. Only until the surgery is done, anyways. You'll be transferred into Dr. Unohana's care from that point on."

His expression fell at that. "I won't see you anymore?"

"I'll keep an eye for about 48 hours after surgery for post-surgical complications. Then I'll be back with you in two weeks to remove staples-"

"-so after you fix me, you're done with me, then?"

"Well, you aren't going to need a cardiac surgeon ever again if all goes well during the operation. You will lead a very different life after the procedure. Your heart will work the way it should, and that will straighten out the damage done to your other organs, medications will be done with, no more clots, or tiring so easily. You'll feel like a new man when I'm done with you and once you've healed," she smiled reassuringly, but then realized he didn't share her excitement at the thought. "Mr. Kyoraku, what's wrong?"

"Lisa is my editor. That's all."

"Excuse me?"

"My work, Doc. I'm a writer. You told me how much you love to read just the other day, but I didn't share how much I love to write with you, did I? It's my joy, being a storyteller. And, anyways, Lisa is my editor. And sometimes my head-buster when needed. Besides, she roots for the other team if you catch my drift? She's only worried because if I kick the bucket she wouldn't be getting a paycheck, you see."

He shut up then, because he had started rambling. God, something about this woman just wrecked him.

"Why are you..?" she was confused, but found herself charmed at the thought that he was a writer. How unexpected. She was sure he would be a good one too, if his golden tongue carried over onto paper.

"I'm telling you this because I don't want you thinking Lisa and I were together."

Realization dawned, and Nanao flushed. "You've misunderstood. I wasn't-"

"-I didn't say that you were. But I wanted you to know all the same. I didn't want you wondering, or thinking that I had a commitment elsewhere."

"Why would that matter?"

"Surely by now you have picked up on my interest?"

Sticking her hands in the pockets of her doctor's coat, Nanao wondered at what point they had gone from talking of the surgery to, well…_this_.

"Say something, please?" he asked after too much silence had passed, desperate to hear her thoughts.

"I took an oath, when I graduated," Nanao murmured, finally. She looked away to fix her eyes on the wall over his head. "It was quite a long one, and there were many smaller promises intertwined into that oath."

"The Hippocratic Oath, yes. Go on."

"To do no harm, to practice honestly," she continued, meeting his eyes sincerely. "And to think of my patients as _patients_, to never consider them more so. Such as in any sexual capacity."

"This isn't the same thing," he insisted. "You aren't trying to lure me or use your position as my doctor-"

She held her hand up to stop him. "None of that matters, does it? What matters is that I took an oath in good faith to abide by certain rules. They are rules for a reason, and very good reasons at that. How can I think critically regarding a surgery if I've fallen in love with the person I cut open?"

"You fell in love with me?" he breathed, his face splitting into a huge, dazzling grin.

"Stop putting words in my mouth. The point is, it's unethical. Not only that, but I can't focus on working on a heart if I'm too focused on worrying over if the patient will be ok-"

"-I fell in love with you, too."

That softly spoken sentence had the world around her screech to a jarring halt. Her hands fisted in her pockets as they trembled. She could hear her own blood roaring in her ears, and thought this was what it felt like to have an anxiety attack. She needed to get away.

Not knowing what else to say, Nanao managed a, "I'll see you on Tuesday morning."

He gave her a knowing look, one that said he wasn't fooled by her continued attempt at detachment. "Good night, then, Doc."

His parting smile lit up the room, soothing her in ways she would never acknowledge.

Nanao turned, too stunned to do much else, and walked away from him.

* * *

She hadn't meant to see him again until the day of surgery, but as she made rounds the next morning, there he was. Walking in the hall with the physical therapist. He no longer needed an oxygen tank brought along, although his movements were still careful. It didn't seem as if he had noticed her, though, as the therapist and him were carrying on a conversation as they went.

Nanao moved in and out of rooms, keeping her gaze away from him in between patient visits. She wasn't sure she was ready to face him after last night's little confession, anyways.

She stopped at the nurse's station to use the counter to write out an order. Concentration on the prescription pad, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end suddenly.

What..?

"Dr. Ise."

Oh. Nanao froze, gripping the pen in her hand a bit tighter than necessary. She forced calm on herself and turned to face the man behind her.

"Dr. Kurotsuchi," she greeted neutrally. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw nurses quickly moving away to find something better to do. Totally abandoned. Not that she could blame them, of course.

The doctor himself didn't _look _terribly intimidating. Mostly it was just his bearing. He was handsome in a snobbish way, hair so black it carried a bluish tint, not overly tall but in good shape. It was his deep set eyes that sent shivers down her spine, his hawk-like features casting a menacing look about him. You could pick up on his eccentric nature in that gaze.

There was obvious screws loose.

"I heard you've been wanting to speak with me?"

"Don't play cute with me, girl," he sneered, standing close enough to make her feel crowded. The nurses station pressed against her hip, preventing her from stepping back. "You know what this is about. Explain to me why you felt the need to go behind my back and appeal a surgery for one of _my_ patients?"

"That was a joint decision between Dr. Unohana and myself, considering the patient was also under her care for pre-existing heart troubles. But you already know that, of course."

"Explain," he demanded angrily.

"In my personal opinion, along with Dr. Unohana's, we did indeed appeal the surgery. That procedure could not be safely preformed, and you know it," she said, her words sounding much more controlled than what she felt right now with him looming over her in such a way. Had he stepped closer? "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"-you insolent little manipulator," he hissed, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip to prevent her from getting away from him before he was done. "I know why you did it. You're jealous of my work, aren't you? Didn't like being out of the spotlight, is that it?"

"No. Now let go of me," she said, tugging. He squeezed harder, and Nanao just barley held back a hiss of pain.

He opened his mouth to say something else, twisting his grip on her to get the point across, when he suddenly went crashing to the ground at her feet in a heap of limbs.

Shocked, she realized Mr. Kyoraku had fallen into him.

"Dr. Ise, I think he needs help. He lost his balance," the therapist explained anxiously, grabbing him to help hold him up.

"My chest," Shunsui agreed with a gasp, clutching it for good measure.

Nanao was all business instantly, shouting for the nurses.

"I need a wheelchair and oxygen, _now_, Isane get the crash cart," she snapped, looping his other arm around her shoulders to help. His weight was tremendous, but she cocked her hip against him for leverage.

The hallway burst into a flurry of well practiced emergency protocol as Dr. Kurotsuchi staggered to his feet with a wince.

"_That's_ why invalids should be kept to their rooms," he growled, stomping off down the hall with an obvious limp to his step.

Shunsui restrained his smirk. That was a perfectly aimed 'fall'. His shoulder had connected beautifully with the man's spine. He would be winded for at least an hour, the bastard.

Allowing himself to be lowered into the wheelchair and carted off to his room, escorted by a group of nurses and his surgeon, who was barking orders as they went.

"I'm feeling much better now," he said, hoping to diffuse the situation before it got too far out of hand. Next thing would be the damned electric paddles, and thank you, but no. "The pain has passed, actually."

He saw the moment when realization dawned in Nanao's eyes and she went very still. In a way that spoke of her extreme displeasure with his pretending. He instantly wanted to take back his words and rearrange them a little smoother. Crap. He should have played along a better.

With a thin set to her lips, she checked his pulse, listened to his heartbeat, had his oxygen levels read. Everything was fine enough. In a dry tone, she said, "Yes. I suppose you are. Amazing."

"Err, false alarm? Must have just been a spell," he waved, glancing at the nurses. "Sorry to concern everyone."

"It's alright," Nanao told the small group, who shuffled out now that the risk of an impending code was gone. To the therapist, "I think we can excuse him from the rest of his exercise session today, too."

"Sure, Dr. Ise," he agreed, giving her patient a pat on the shoulder as he left too.

Now that they were alone in his room, she glared down at the man in the wheelchair, not sure what to even say. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You faked that whole thing? Really?"

"Maybe…" he hedged, climbing back to his feet slowly. She had to glare _up_, now. It was still damn intimidating, though. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't _scare_ me. You wasted the time and effort of my staff and myself. There are other patients who actually need the attention that was pulled away from them just now with your little stunt, Mr. Kyoraku."

Oh, he was getting a taste of that temper he knew she had hidden inside of her now.

"I'll never do it again," he assured. Risking life and limb, he reached out and took one of her hands, pushing up her white sleeve to look at the pale skin of her delicate wrist. To his absolute fury, there was the beginnings of fingertip-shaped bruises. "That son of a-"

"-just stop it. What did I tell you about unnecessary stress?" she asked, jerking her hand free. "You could have gotten hurt. You slammed yourself into a man just now. Clearly, that's unwise for someone facing imminent open heart surgery."

"Yes. I could have gotten hurt, but I didn't. You _did_," he pointed out, his tone surprising menacing.

"That was nothing," she insisted heatedly. "How could you do that? How could you chance damaging yourself further before surgery tomarrow?"

"How could I not? Have you filed any complaints against that asshole?"

"Yes, unfortunately we all have, but nothing has been done. Stop changing the subject-"

"-why?"

Nanao took a deep breath and prayed for calm. Tersely, she bit out, "He's some relation to important hospital personel. This doesn't matter, your surgery does."

"It matters to me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've got work to do. I don't have time for this. You're the most frustrating man I've ever met."

"In a good way?" he wondered, grinning a sheepish-looking grin.

"Goodbye, Mr. Kyoraku."

She marched out, with an angry step, when he called, "Still not sorry!"

Nanao mumbled something under her breath that he didn't quite catch.

Once she was gone, he went to his room phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Lisa, you know how you were being spiteful and pushy yesterday and I kicked you out?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to do that again. Only I need you to name-drop and take care of something for me."

"I'm listening," she sighed over the line.

* * *

Today was the day. It settled like lead in her stomach. She walked at a quick pace, entering the doctor's lounge with purpose. A hurried glance around assured her the only occupant was the woman she needed to speak with.

Dr. Unohana looked up from where she sat at the table, picking at her lunch while simultaneously tapping at her laptop.

"Dr. Ise," she greeted.

Closing the door, she turned to her mentor with a defeated expression.

"I don't know if I can do this," Nanao blurts before she could talk herself out of it. She was sure no such words had ever left her mouth.

Dr. Unohana regarded mildly, before closing her laptop and motioning to the seat across from her.

Nanao walked over and sat hesitantly. She felt like a new graduate again, being sized up by her mentor.

"Do what, dear?"

"This surgery on Mr. Kyoraku today."

After a moment, Retsu simply smiles tolerantly. "Yes, you can. We've been over the procedure countless times. It's flawless. What's the problem?"

"I'm…" Nanao let out a frustrated breath. It had taken her a great deal of time to come to the conclusion that she was about to admit. She was in no way comfortable with it, but she couldn't lie to this woman. "I'm too involved. I could make a mistake. It's not worth the risk, is it?"

"Involved how?" she encourages. There was no judgment in the older woman's sharp gaze, only a need to understand.

"I don't know," she admits, honestly. She was so confused. "But morally, how can I operate on that man knowing I don't have my head in the right place?"

"How can you not?" she counters calmly.

Nanao blinked, not comprehending. "How do you mean?"

"Who else would do this for him, if not you, Dr. Ise?"

"Someone else _could_ do it. I've gotten the details figured out, I could offer all my notes and thoughts about his case to another surgeon. It just can't be me. I'll hand pick someone else."

"Hm," Retsu hummed noncommittally. "And would you be able to live with it if something were to go wrong?"

Nanao says nothing.

"You are still young," Retsu smiled fondly, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. "Let me offer you some advise."

Nanao nods, desperate for guidance.

"As doctors, we are expected to treat all patients equally, with the same consideration and care. We are expected to withhold our personal feelings on account of the better picture. We are expected to be unbiased and honorable to everyone."

"Yes."

"That is, unfortunately, simply a well-worded illusion. Some patients become special to us. We can _try_ to temper our thoughts and feelings, but in the end, it is impossible to do so completely. Sometimes bonds are formed, against our better judgment. Some people just speak to us on an instinctual level. Some lives mean more, some deaths hurt more. It's hard to not be affected."

"But we should hold ourselves to a higher standard," Nanao argued.

"Yes. But in the end, we are just human, Dr. Ise. We _feel_, and we can't ignore that we do. The trick is to push all of that aside, and use the gifts we have to heal those who are counting on us, regardless."

Nanao leaned back heavily, mulling over the words. In her logical mind, she knew she shouldn't do this man's surgery. She had grown attached to him. Like her mentor pointed out, some people _speak_ to you. And he has, loud and clear. She can't deny it anymore. It wouldn't be right to perform the operation, ethically. She should step back now that she recognizes the shift in their dynamic.

She closes her eyes, wondering how she had possibly found herself in this position. _Her. _ Nanao Ise, the Ice Queen of detachment.

She had fallen for a patient. Unbelievable.

"It's very simple, Dr. Ise. You're making it much harder than it has to be. Let me ask you this, can you trust anyone else to do it in your place?" Retsu asks gently.

Nanao takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, a spark of determination flaring in her. "No."

"Then that's all you need to know."

* * *

After the much needed pep-talk, Nanao worked her hands over meticulously in the scrub room. Taking perhaps a little more care than she may normally to rid herself of as many germs as possible. Fingers, palms, wrists, forearms. Several times. Then, several more. She couldn't risk pulling off this surgery just to have him develop an infection. His life was too precious to gamble with.

She was stalling a little too. He was in there already, in her OR, and she couldn't seem to tuck everything away like she usually could. She needed to detach. To think clinically again. She was a master of control in her element, with an iron grip on her emotions.

Dr. Unohana was right. She could push everything else away. Today would be no different than any other in her OR.

_He_ would be no different. He was just another patient.

Drying off, she backed into the double doors with her hands raised close to her chest.

Mr. Kyoraku was on the table, chatting amiably with the OR staff around him. The nurse giggled at something he said, and Nanao felt the tension in her shoulders relax. He wasn't anxious, she would pull strength from him, and let go of her own nervousness. He deserved that from her, at the very least.

She stood still as a tech wrapped her in sterile dress. Gown, mask, gloves. Her eyes stayed on her patient, who hadn't noticed her arrival just yet. His broad chest exposed and shaved, the skin tinged orange from the sterilizing iodine wipe down the nurse had done. Everything from the waist down was draped in blue cloth. IV lines ran, monitors beeped, the surgical techs moved about starting up the machinery. The tables were laid out with all of her instruments. The anesthesiologist was figuring up his dosage, setting dials and preparing the intubation equipment. Everything felt like a normal day. She had a good team, one that she trusted.

She could do this.

"Mr. Kyoraku," she greeted when the tech had finished. His gaze met hers then, and noticeably softened.

"You look ready for battle," he observed, having never seen her in anything other than her white doctor coat and plain scrubs.

"A fitting description," she said, coming to stand next to where he was laying. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Take care of my heart, Doc. I'm handing it over to you now."

Lame, but sweet, she thought with a smirk behind her mask. She stared down at him, memorizing this look of absolute trust he was giving her. Pulled more strength from it, feeling it settle around her like a blanket.

With new found confidence, she assured, "It's in good hands, Mr. Kyoraku."

He grinned at her, and saw her eyes smile back.

Nanao was ready now, too. She glanced at the anesthesiologist and gave him a nod to start. He reached forward, placing a gas mask over her patient and instructed him to count to ten for him.

They kept each other's gaze until his eyes drifted shut at '5'.

* * *

Since becoming a doctor, Nanao had spent many hours on her feet and buried in someone's chest.

She had saved a lot of lives. She had ended a few, as well.

She had experienced pride in her accomplishments, and despair for her failures.

She had spent her days being congratulated by coworkers. She had spend afternoons being thanked by families. She had spent evenings in numb shock, nursing a bottle of alcohol in her remorse.

But never, at any point during her career, had she shed tears.

Sitting behind her desk in her rarely-used office, Nanao shed tears now. They ran hot down her cheeks, dripped onto her paperwork, smeared ink. Her head held up by a hand against her forehead as she let the overwhelming feelings wash through her. She couldn't stop it, she couldn't pull it together, so she didn't even try. The door was locked, and there was no one else here.

So she cried, and cried hard. She let go.

After what felt like hours, Nanao finally calmed enough to notice that she was still splattered with blood. Mr. Kyoraku's blood.

More tears fell.

This wasn't like her. Usually when she had blood splashed across her she showered and changed. Had she walked all the way from the OR to her office looking like this? What the hell was wrong with her?

With more effort than it should have taken, Nanao climbed to her feet. She kept a change of clothes stashed everywhere. Her car, her locker, her office. Hell, even in a cubby by the OR. Blood was part of her work. A messy part. Experience taught her to have a spare pair laying close by at all times.

She collected a pair from her coat closet and headed to the locker rooms to wash up. The stalls were empty, thankfully. She didn't have the energy to deal with another person just yet.

She stripped and let the hot water wash over her. Her mind raced, replaying every move she had made.

Her hands had been steady.

Her work had been slow and complicating, but she had done it. It had been damn-near impossible, especially when she had gotten inside and seen how little room she had to work with. There was literally no room for error.

But it was done now. It was over. He was alive. She had done it. She should be proud.

But she remembered when he had flat-lined on her table. The first time was on purpose to start up bypass. But then it happened a second time, unplanned and unexpected. Suddenly, she had been standing there when his life was slipping away, and her control with it.

That's when she had choked. That's when her personal feelings, all of her stupid attachments to the man, had almost killed him. It had taken her several, precious, moments to get it together. She had flown into a frenzy, seizing everything from her memory that she could do to get his heart started up again. She had brought him back to her.

No, back to _life_. Not her. She was removing herself from his case. That horrible feeling in the OR was something she never wanted to feel again. She had no business being his doctor, not now, and never again.

Dr. Unohana had been wrong, so wrong. It was impossible to separate the heart from the mind. It had almost cost him his life. She had been foolish.

It made her flinch when she remembered the noise of the monitor when his heart had stopped for no apparent reason. It had felt like her own had stopped right along with his.

He was alive, recovering right now, and she couldn't seem to make herself believe it. She couldn't seem to find the joy in that.

The crushing feeling of 'almost' was overshadowing everything else.

* * *

Showered, changed, and feeling marginally like someone in control again, she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed. Her glasses could cover that enough to avoid notice, probably.

She made her way to the recovery ward.

He was still out, of course. She would keep him sedated for 24 hours, a medication-induced coma to heal.

In the bed, with so many tubes and wires, it was easy for her to not recognize him anymore. Like this, he looked like any other post-surgical patient. It helped her to distance herself even more from her emotional morning.

She looked at the heart monitor, studied the EKG, calculated the QRS waves with growing hope. Because for the first time in his life, probably, it was all normal.

A tiny smile bloomed as she pulled on her stethoscope, placed the bell carefully over his bandaged chest.

There it was, a regular sounding heartbeat. A bit slower than it should be, but that was because of the medications, not any abnormality. She had removed that, after all.

She stepped back, gazing down at him.

_Now_ she was feeling the pride. Not for pulling off a surgery worthy of recognition, but because he was free of his cage now.

With a sense of peace, of possession, and elation, she laid a hand on his and squeezed.

"It's over now," she whispered to him.

* * *

Nanao realized something shocking about herself this past month: She was a coward.

Surprisingly, she never thought she would ever label herself as such.

It had been four weeks since Mr. Kyoraku's surgery. She had kept a close eye on him during his sedation, but had avoided him like the plague since he had been woken. Dr. Unohana was treating him now, as per usual for post-surgical cardiac patients.

Nanao still kept tabs, of course. She was tracking his progress discreetly, sneaking peeks into his chart when she was on the floor to see her other patients, absently asking Isane about his recovery, keeping watch on his lab values and wound care. Not that Dr. Unohana was unreliable. The woman was, in fact, a master at her job. Nanao would trust her with her own heart care.

It was just that…well, she wanted to see it for herself. She couldn't face him in person, but she could be his unknown guardian until he was discharged.

He had asked after her, had asked the nurses to tell her he would like to speak with her. But she didn't oblige. She had no excuse for herself, other than falling back on the reminder that he wasn't her patient anymore. She had no obligation to see him now.

Somehow, she felt damn traitorous for thinking that way.

He had been moved to the Rehab Unit five days after surgery. And Nanao rarely went to that floor for anything, but she still kept pace with his progress. He was doing well and she was happy for him. He was on his way out the door in probably just a few more days.

She was supposed to have removed his staples and assess the surgical wound two weeks back, as she had assured him. But instead, she had asked a favor of Dr. Unohana. She had asked her to remove his sutures, because she just couldn't see him.

She couldn't explain it, even to herself. It was childish and illogical, but she simply couldn't bring herself to it. Since the day of his surgery, she had made the decision to step back. She intended to stick to it.

Hence the reason she figured she must be a coward.

So when she walked into her office, and found a book with a bright pink ribbon on her desk, she knew instantly who it could be from. Especially since it sat next to her origami crane she had foolishly saved from weeks and weeks ago.

With a shaken exhale, she picked it up cautiously, reading the title before the note attached. This was a favorite author of hers, actually. She had no less than six of his books on her shelf at home. She wondered how Mr. Kyoraku had pegged her interest so easily. She hadn't read this one yet, though. Eagerness at this wonderful new gift coursed through her, along with a hefty dose of guilt for how she had acted this past month from it's giver.

Preparing herself, she picked up the note and opened it:

'_Doc, I know you've been avoiding me.'_

Well. There you have it, Nanao thought with a smirk. He was so blunt.

'_I'm being sent home today, but I couldn't leave without some token of appreciation. I've waited in your office for a few hours now, but I know you must be busy. I didn't want to just leave without talking to you first. But I suppose I have to. _

_I wanted to give you this book. This was my first publication, the book that changed my life. It led me straight into my path as a full-time writer. '_

Nanao gasped, shocked. This author…it was him? He had used an alias, so she would have never known otherwise. He wasn't just a writer, he was one of the greats. He was quite well known in the world of literature. She loved his work, but never knew. How strange. If she had been aware of who he was, she would have taken the time to pick his brain. What a lost opportunity.

'_This is actually the very first printed copy of it, and I want you to have it. It was my most prized possession for many years. _

_It's your now. Because even though this book changed my life, you gave it back to me altogether. _

_And besides, I have a new prized possession: a perfectly working heart. One that forever has your handprint on it.'_

Nanao was surprised to find herself blinking to focus her suddenly watery eyes while simultaneously smiling. This was the best thank you she had ever received from a patient. He left a phone number at the bottom, one she knew she would never call. But this note? She would treasure it always.

Glancing up at the clock, she had about an hour before her next surgery. Like a child, she tore the ribbon off her new, cherished book and sank into her chair with it. When she got home, she would read it front to cover, then add it to the collection of his other books she had on her shelf. Hell, she might just reread them while she was at it.

Impatiently, she flipped through her new book to skim over the chapter.

Before long, she was engrossed in his story, enchanted and spellbound by his words all over again.

* * *

**A quick note, I know there is a lot of medical talk in here. Some might have been confusing, and I apologize. **

**This story just came to me one day and I had to write it. I work in a hospital, and I can say sometimes you can't help but to feel a connection to the people you care for (not romantic ones, just connects in general) All ages, races, and backgrounds. None of that makes a difference in this field. There are connections formed, and some people just stand out in your memory. I took it further here, obviously, but then this is a story and I can do stuff like that. **

**Also, this was supposed to be a one-shot. But, the I started fooling around with the idea of an epilogue…and next thing you know I've got it written out...anyways. I'm just throwing it out there…your thoughts are more than welcome on that. I'm jonesin' for more of an ending, personally. Not 100% satisfied with it as a stand-alone.**

**So, I was pumped about Nanao getting some air-time in 551. Hopefully we will see some more out of her. Love it.**

**Anyhow, reviews are so appreciated! AU's aren't always popular, I know, but this one was fun for me to write.**


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